


Sloppy

by Synnerxx



Category: Sons of Anarchy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-25
Updated: 2011-09-25
Packaged: 2018-11-01 01:48:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10911852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Synnerxx/pseuds/Synnerxx
Summary: Tig spends the day chained to a chair. He's not happy.





	Sloppy

Tig is in the bathroom, wiping the blood from his lip when Chibs comes into his bedroom. He leans against the door frame of the bathroom and studies Tig in the mirror.

“You okay?” He asks, watching Tig prod at a cut above his eye.

“Does it look like I'm okay?” Tig snarls, glaring at Chibs in the mirror.

“You never look like you're okay, Tiggy.” Chibs points out, pushing away from the door and tugging at Tig's arm, making him turn around.

“Fuck off.” Tig snaps, but there's no real heat in his words. He's tired now.

Chibs ignores him and takes the damp clothe out of his hand and gently cleans the cut above his eye and the one along his left cheekbone and dabs at his split lip. 

Tig sags back against the sink and winces, one hand coming up to press against his chest. He had spent most of the day tied to a chair with heavy chains that were wrapped way too tight around him, thanks to the Russians. Turns out they were more pissed about their guns than anyone had thought.

Chibs notices and glances down at Tig's chest. “Shirt off.”

Tig opens his mouth to argue, but thinks better of it at the sharp look Chibs gives him. He sighs and tugs off his cut, handing it to Chibs who tosses it out of the bathroom and onto the bed. He peels off his shirt, wincing again when he moves his arms up.

Chibs slides his hands along Tig's ribs, feeling for breaks. There aren't any as far as he can tell, but there is going to be a lot of bruising across Tig's chest as it's already turning shades of red and purple. “What happened?”

He hadn't been at the clubhouse when everything went down with Jax, Tig, and the Russians at the Reservation. He had been picking Juice up from the station and had heard a bit of what happened, but not everything. 

“Fuckin' Russians were more pissed than we thought. Tied Jax and me up with fuckin' chains.” Tig grumbles, irritation flicking across his face.

“Well, nothing is broken. Just bruises.” Chibs shrugs and steps back from Tig, taking his shirt away from him. 

“What are you doing?” Tig asks, blinking at Chibs.

Chibs kisses him then, careful of the tear in his lip, pinning Tig against the sink. Tig lets out a startled moan as Chibs pressed him harder against the sink, hands on either side of Tig's on the edge of it.

As they part, Chibs rests his forehead against Tig's. “Don't you ever fuckin' do that again, understand?”

“Do what?” Tig sounds amused, stealing another kiss from Chibs.

“Get caught like that. You're better than that. You're not supposed to make sloppy mistakes like that.” Chibs chides him, worry creeping into his words.

“Technically, it was Jax's fault.” Tig points out, grinning against Chibs' mouth when he kisses him once more.

“I don't care. Don't let it happen again.” Chibs' voice is rough.

“I won't.” Tig says softly, brushing his fingers across the back of Chibs' hand.

It's not like he enjoys being tied up to chairs. Well, not all the time. Only when he's getting something out of it and this was definitely not one of those times.


End file.
